Crimson Country Roads
by WishIWasAussie
Summary: COMPLETE Short Story NEW Ch 1-3: Jane has a hunch, he and Lisbon take a drive to the "Cowboy Capital of the World." Jane antics ensue. Heart-felt Jello/ Jisbon moments
1. Chapter 1

Patrick Jane sat lightly on the corner of the desk, alone in Lisbon's office, head bent and looking at his faded leather shoes. He turned his gaze to the tile floor, noting that the fake marble pattern repeated every other tile, and some of the marks looked like the outline of a lion. He noticed the scuff marks from Lisbon's shoes. He noticed twelve round pieces of paper left from a hole-punching project Lisbon did the evening before. He smiled delicately at the thought of Lisbon fighting with the three-hole punch as she frantically sorted the mound of papers on her desk. He looked to his left; the mound was still there. Jane's attention was drawn to the door as he noticed the blinds rattle and the hinges squeak.

"What are you doing in here?" Lisbon demanded. She stood commandingly, her black suit jacket unbuttoned and covering her simple maroon blouse.

"I was waiting for you," Jane stated as he looked her in the eyes from his perch, and raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.

"What do you want, now?" Lisbon continued walking toward her desk, passing Jane and quickly taking her seat. She immediately started to sort through papers, fixing her gaze on her hands.

Jane stood and slowly spun around to look at her. He noticed she decided to straighten her hair today. She smelled nice, too: a sophisticated, yet flirty, hint of roses hung around her.

"I have a hunch." He threw one of his amiable smiles to the top of her head.

"About the Myers case?" She said without looking his way.

"Yes." He kept looking at her, waiting for her to look up.

"The case is practically closed. Tammy Quinn confessed." She still watched her own hands as they pushed busy documents into mustard-yellow folders.

"Tammy didn't do it." He smiled wider.

Lisbon sighed to herself and finally looked up with slumped shoulders. "And why do you think that?" She let her hands drop a few papers and rested her elbows on the table, putting her chin in her hands to give him her full attention.

"I don't think so, I know so." He subtly nodded his head and leaned in a bit closer, placing his hands on the desk to prop himself up.

"Then who did?" She knew he would answer whether she asked him or not.

"Sarah Adkins, Greg Meyers' bull-owning customer."

Lisbon impatiently put her hands back to work, "but we already checked out Sarah's alibi. She wasn't even near Oakdale the night of the murder."

"Ah, but she was." Jane kept his grin as he explained his theory. "She _said _she was in San Francisco visiting her sister Naomi, but we only have Naomi's word."

Lisbon looked up to Jane, his eyes throwing her a "you have to believe me" look.

Lisbon shook her head to combat what she could feel him thinking. "We have credit card statements placing Sarah in the Supermarket in San Fran thirty minutes before the murder," she said matter-of-fact, "and you remember we also have the cashier's testimony that he remembers them both? How could she be in two places at once?"

"Ah, but Lisbon, she wasn't." He moved his face closer to hers as he continued with his theory. "It was her sister who used the credit card." He raised his right hand off the desk and put out his palm as if he were holding the answer in plain sight.

Lisbon watched him put his hand back down, then followed his gray suit jacket-clad arm to his sky blue collared shirt, to his freshly shaved chin. _Was that Old Spice?_ She looked him in the eye."Then explain the cashier's identification."

"He remembers two girls, both blond, petite, pretty... but it was Naomi and _someone else_. A mystery girl who happens to resemble Sarah."

"Really?" Lisbon looked him in the eye, "you expect me to believe in this mystery girl? One who looks just like Sarah?"

"Yes." Jane stood up straight and bounced gently on his heels to make a point. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, waiting for her response.

"Bring me the mystery girl," Lisbon said as she went back to her folders, "and I'll believe you."

"Of course." Jane smiled, spun on his heels, took two long strides to the door, put his hand on the cold metal handle, and stopped before he opened it.

"Lisbon?" he said, looking at the door handle.

"Yes, Jane?" she answered, looking over a document.

"Cheer up."

She looked up, slightly ponderously, as he swung opened the door, making the blinds rattle again, and bounded out into the hall.

She sighed to herself and shook her head, placing a folder into a cardboard box behind her desk.

***

Jane grabbed the keys to the SUV and walked passed Van Pelt's desk. He knew she would want to know where he was going, and he didn't mind taking along company.

"Where are you going?" Van Pelt asked, standing in the ready. Her long ginger hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and she wore a simple light pink button-up blouse.

"To find a mystery girl." Jane grinned.

Van Pelt furrowed her brow, "uh, do you need any help?"

"No, no. I have this." He knew that response still wouldn't deter her.

"Are you sure? I don't mind taking a road trip. Oakdale sounds nice."

"Jane!" Lisbon called from her office doorway, "I'm coming with you." She ran back into her office to grab her gun, leaving her door open.

"Ah! Now you believe me?" Jane called back to the door with the rattling blinds.

"No, that's why I'm coming with you." Lisbon walked briskly out of her office toward Jane. "I need a break from all that paper pushing, anyway."

"Yeah, you could use a drive in the country." Jane jingled the keys and tossed them to Lisbon. He raised his arm over his head and pointed to the exit.

"To Oakdale!"

***

Lisbon's thin fingers held the slowly-cooling steering wheel. Though her eyes were shielded from the sun by large sunglasses, she squinted as the morning rays turned into noon-time glare on Highway 99. She felt the sun hitting her chin and chest and fiddled with the AC controls to direct the air on herself. She could feel Jane, resting his blond curls on his headrest, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Lisbon squirmed in her seat imperceptibly. To break the silence, Jane began humming his own rendition of the Beach Boys' "I Get Around."

"You can turn on the radio," Lisbon said. Jane could hear undeniable the irritation in her voice.

Without lifting his head, he smiled and asked "you don't like my singing?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean..." she sighed gently, "sing whatever you like, for all I care."

"Well," Jane responded, still resting his head, "we have another hour of driving ahead of us, so I thought I would try to lighten the mood." He turned his head toward her and grinned.

Lisbon took her eyes off the road and turned to look at him. "Who said I need my mood lightened?" The volume of her voice raised slightly.

"Ah, so you admit you're out of sorts today." He turned his head back and stared at the safety-belt warning on the underside of his sun visor.

Lisbon looked back to the road. "I didn't say that."

"But you are." He shifted and sat up, turning to look back to her. "You're particularly irritable this morning."

"Of course, you would notice." She glanced his way and then looked back to the highway.

"Yes, I noticed. But I dont know what's bothering you." A flicker of the emotion known as concern spread to Janes face, raising his eyebrows and wrinkling his forehead.

"Nor will you know." She kept her eyes on the shimmering road, holding her right arm out straight in a subconscious attempt to block Janes perception.

"You're sure you don't want to tell me anything?" Jane shifted again and did his best to turn himself to face her. "You can trust me." This time his smile was softer than usual.

"I know, it's just..." She looked over to him, his genuine sincerity catching her a bit off guard, "it's something I have to deal with on my own. I can't go around telling my team all my personal problems."

"I'm not your team, Lisbon, I'm just Patrick. It's just me, and you, and the car." He leaned in slightly and moved his hand toward her, placing it on the console between them, without touching her. "No one will know about whatever it is that's bothering you, except us."

"I know," Lisbon gripped the wheel with her left hand and dropped her other arm in her lap as she relaxed. "It's not that I don't appreciate your concern, but really, I'm not going to share."

"Not even a little detail?" His cheeky smirk returned.

Lisbon saw his face change, and even she let a delicate smile fall on her lips. "I'm not telling you. Stop asking." She lifted her arm to take the wheel with both her hands again.

"Alright, I'll stop asking." He turned forward again and adjusted himself to be more comfortable, rested his head on the seat, and faced upward, closing his eyes.

Lisbon felt him relax and glanced toward him. She shook her head at the fact that he seemed to give up so easily. "Thank you for being reasonable."

"Well, its not like I have a choice. I AM stuck in this car with you for another hour..."

Lisbon grinned and reached toward him and chuckled, "oh, stop it!" nudging his shoulder with her fist.

Jane looked at her with his ever-present grin. He leaned forward and pressed the little green button that turned on the satellite radio.

"How about some Beach Boys for our drive?"

***


	2. Chapter 2

Lisbon steered the dark grey SUV into the driveway alongside Beth Quinn's red, 1989 Ford pickup. The truck looked like a mistreated antique next to the CBI's vehicle. Lisbon opened her door and stepped out onto the concrete, the heel of her boot falling into one of the numerous cracks. She caught herself before she stumbled, and then closed the door with a slam. She looked up to see Jane already out of the car and walking around the neglected rose bushes that separated the Quinn driveway from their neighbors', leaning to either side and peering at the roots.

"Stopping to smell the roses, are we?" Lisbon called to him.

Jane looked up. "Yes, actually. They're a little thirsty though." He gingerly touched one of the many browning leaves.

"Come on, let's see if Beth Quinn is home." Lisbon turned to face the porch and walked up the stairs, being mindful of the cracks. Jane didn't follow. She looked around for a doorbell, but had to resort to knocking on the dilapidated screen door. It came un-latched as she pounded on the frame, and it opened a few inches with a creak. Lisbon heard rustling behind the front door, and it opened to reveal a petite blond woman. She was wearing a long heather-gray T-shirt, sleeves rolled-up, over skinny jeans. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she was holding a kitchen towel. Jane, watching unnoticed, observed she had an attractive face with large eyes and pouty lips, but it was marred by a scowl as she glared at Lisbon from the doorway.

"Why can't you cops just leave me alone?"

"Beth? We're here to ask a few more questions. It will only be a minute. We need to clarify some details about the day of the murder."

Beth sighed and threw the towel over her shoulder. "Come on in." She stepped back and turned around, walking into the the kitchen. Lisbon followed her into the house and stopped in the living room. Cigarrette smoke seemed to pour out of the cream-colored wall paper.

"Take a seat, I'll be in there in a sec'." Beth called from the kitchen. Lisbon chose the corner of the floral patterned couch closest to the faded pink easy chair. A lone table lamp with an obnoxiously decorated shade dimly lit the room. There was an entire bookshelf stocked with Reader's Digest Condensed Books. Lisbon looked around at the numerous prints hanging on the walls. She looked to the front door as Jane peeped his head in. He looked around quickly, and seeing Lisbon already seated, let himself in.

"Finally decided to join us?" Lisbon said under her breath. Beth walked into the living room and stopped when she saw Jane standing in front of the doorway.

"Who's he? When did he get here?"

"This--" Lisbon was cut-off.

"My name is Patrick Jane." He reached out and gently took her empty hand in both of his. She wore a silver dangly bracelete with one large heart charm. Looking her in the eyes, he continued, "I'm a consultant with the CBI. I need to know a few things." Still holding her hand, he took a small step closer to her. "You can trust me. Have a seat?" He let one hand leave her's and motioned toward the easy chair, imperceptibly pulling her over to it.

When Beth was seated comfortably, Jane took a seat on the couch next to Lisbon. He glanced around the room again, pausing at the shelf over the fireplace. It was littered with pictures of Beth and her two best friends, Naomi and Sarah Adkins. Jane looked to Beth, who was in a slight stupor, staring at him, resting her elbow on the chair's arm with her chin in her palm. When she realized he was staring back, she breathed in deeply and looked away, putting her hands in her lap and fidgeting with the towel.

"Miss Quinn," Jane started, "those are pictures of your friends, correct?"

"Yes. Sarah, and her sister Naomi."

"Naomi was in San Francisco at the time of the murder, correct?" Jane watched intently as Beth answered.

"Yes. Her and Sarah were hanging out." She continued to pick at the towel, pulling off the loose thread on the edges.

"And where were you?" He could sense that something wasn't right. She was hiding something, just as he had suspected.

"I was in Sonora, in my psych class." She looked up. "I thought you guys already knew that. I told you, and my teacher marked me as present."

Jane kept his eyes, unmoving, on her. "Yes, she did."

"And my classmates, they said I was there, right?"

"To some effect." Jane stood up and walked sideways toward the fireplace so he could watch her as he spoke. "They couldn't say that they actually saw you or not, because they didn't remember you in the first place."

"Well, I was. In class. Y'know, only the second meeting..." she looked nervously away from both Jane and Lisbon. "It's a big class, and I sit in the back..." She could come up with more excuses if necessary. "I'm quiet."

"And I imagine you're a good student. I'm sure you take a lot of notes." He watched her reaction to the comment.

She shifted lightly in her seat. "Well, yeah, what does that have to do with anything?"

_"It has everything to do with this..." _he thought to himself. "Do you have those notes from that day?"

"I, um... I wasn't feeling good that day." Beth looked down at her hands and realized they were tearing pieces of thread off the towel. She quickly stopped and folded the towel in her lap, took a deep breath, and calmed herself. She looked up, collected. "I fell asleep... for more than half the lecture. I think Mrs. Kintu talked about the brain. In fact, that reminds me, I need to re-read that chapter... since I didn't take any notes... Is there anything else _important_ that you want to ask me?"

"No, that's all." Jane stood and walked toward her, throwing her a smile. She smiled back. "Thank you for your time, Bethany," he shook her hand as she looked up at his charming face from the chair. Lisbon also stood; she could tell Jane was up to something and was just waiting for things to get out of hand.

Jane continued, "I'm sorry we had to bother you, but we want to make sure your mother is the ruthless killer she confesses to be."

"How dare you talk about my mom that way!" Bethany stood up as if she had been stung by a wasp. She shook off her Jane-induced stupor and glared at him.

Jane shrugged and took one step backward, toward the front door. "I'm just repeating what she told us."

"She's not a killer!" Beth took a step closer to him, fastening both her hands into fists, the towel in her left.

"Oh, but I beg to differ, Miss Quinn..." This is exactly what he wanted from her.

"Get out of my house!" Beth threw down the towel and whipped her hands out in front of her, pushing them against his shoulders to send him backward, closer to the door.

Lisbon jumped between them and took his arm, turning him to face the door.

"Jane, we have the info we want."

Jane walked casually to the door and pulled it open. "Alright, we're leaving, Miss Quinn. I'll give your regards to your mother." He turned around and looked her square in the eyes. "In jail."

"You!" Beth clenched her teeth and hissed, "you... just shut up, you!" She took another step toward Jane. "She doesn't deserve that!"

"Oh, but she does." He tried to maneuver around Lisbon, but she would only let him look over her shoulder. She had lead them onto the porch.

Jane continued his banter. "She killed a man in cold blood."

"Stop saying that!" Beth, ignoring Lisbon, stepped up to them and moved her face as close to Jane's as she could.

He slightly winced at the thought of what he guessed would happen next. "It's the truth."

"Stop it!" Beth reached over Lisbon and pushed Jane off the porch. Jane lost his footing and began to fall backward, off the two stairs, and onto the lawn. As he fell, he managed to grab Lisbon's arm, pulling her down and nearly tearing the sleeve off her jacket. Jane landed on his back with a thud on the grass, and Lisbon fell on her back with a thud on Jane's chest and arm.

"I hate you!" Beth turned and ran inside the house, slamming the door. The screen door swung open with an angry screech.

Lisbon groaned, rubbing her arm where Jane had held in a failed attempt to steady himself. She realized who she had landed on, and dug her elbow into his ribs as she sat up.

"That went well." She waited for a smart-aleck response from Jane. He was silent.

"Jane?" She strained her neck to look at his face. His sparkling eyes were closed, and his presumptuous smile was replaced with a slack jaw and slightly open mouth.

"Jane?" Lisbon turned around and got on her knees, scooting them into his side, and leaned over his face. She reached for his arm and felt his wrist. The arm was heavy, but there was still a pulse.

"Jane!" She grabbed his shoulders and shook him. He didn't respond.

She shook him again, rougher, leaning her whole body weight into the effort, yelling into his face, "Patrick!"

This time, his mouth tightened and curved into a sly smile. "I love it when you use my first name, Teresa." He opened his eyes and stared into hers, cross-eyed at how close she had let her face come to his.

"Jane! I thought..." she quickly let go of his shoulders and leaned back, sitting on the grass."Don't you _ever _do that to me again." She glared at him.

He didn't look her way, but instead gazed up at the clear sky. "What, use my excellent acting skills?"

"Come on, let's get back to headquarters." Lisbon stood and leaned over Jane to block out the sky he was so intently watching.

"Oh, Lisbon, we're not going back to headquarters;" he put his hands behind his head, "not when we just got such a strong clue leading to who _truly_ murdered Meyers."

"What are you talking about? You just made Beth throw you on the ground, and you want me to keep going on this wild goose chase?"

He shrugged. "Yes."

Lisbon crossed her arms and waited for him to continue speaking. He quickly looked her up and down; she held a commanding figure from his angle. He looked her in the eye.

"We're going to find the murderer. We're going to find Sarah Adkins."

"Sarah?"

"Yes, Sarah." He reached an arm up to Lisbon, "a little help?"

Lisbon shook her head and rolled her eyes. Without saying a word, she turned on her heels, keys in hand, and stormed toward the SUV.

"...or not..." Jane quipped as he pushed himself up.


	3. Chapter 3

"I really love these wandering country roads," Jane said from the passenger's seat, looking out his window with the curiosity of a child at an aquarium. "The farmhouses overgrown by their yards, the horses that appear out of nowhere, the interesting characters that wave to you from their driveways, or from their tractors blocking the road..."

Jane looked to Lisbon. Her face was twisted into a frown as she stared at the back of the tractor in front of them. The faded and chipped green paint and bright orange caution triangle had been their view for the last eight minutes as they rode at a snail's pace. The road was too narrow and curvy to pass, and the deep irrigation ditches that made up the shoulder on either side wouldn't allow the tractor to pull over safely.

"Lisbon," Jane said with a softer-than-usual tone.

"Yes?" Lisbon continued to stare at the butt of the tractor.

"I figure since we have some time to kill, you could tell me what's bothering you..."

"_Not_ going to happen." Lisbon rolled her eyes. She should have known he would be bringing this up again.

"It was just a thought..." Jane continued to look at her, trying to capture her dark, intense eyes in his bright, sensitive gaze.

"Well, keep it to yourself." She still stared at the tractor.

Jane stopped staring at her and leaned his head back. "It's about me."

Lisbon paused before blurting out, "Why would you think that?"

"It is! I knew it!" He looked back at her and switched off the radio.

"You did not _know_ that. And, it's not about you. Not exactly, I mean."

"I think it is. Please, let me know what's bothering you." His curiosity was gnawing at his patience. "What can I do to make you happy?" he pleaded in an unusually tender tone.

Lisbon sighed loudly, her audible way of letting him know she was finally raising her white flag. She was silent for a few minutes.

Realizing she was safe, she slowed down the car and spoke in a whisper. "Jane..."

He simply looked at her, his brow slightly furrowed, his smile nearly gone.

She looked down at her steering wheel and traced the horn picture with her finger. Her eyes grew darker, and the car slowed even more.

"Bosco..." Lisbon started, her voice cracking a bit, "I miss him."

Jane stayed silent. He simply watched her frown as she figured out the words that would convey her feelings without putting too much of herself in them.

"I don't know how you..." she wanted to look at him, but couldn't bring herself to look up. She looked away from his direction, settling her gaze on the door handle.

"How do you deal with this?" She paused again. "The pain, but most of all..." she lowered her voice, trying her best to conceal her feelings of shame, "the guilt?"

Jane reached his hands over to the steering wheel and gently took Lisbon's hand. She lowered her head even more, fighting back tears.

"Teresa, let's pull over. There's a driveway up ahead."

She looked up and sniffled, spotting the gravel driveway through her blurred vision, "okay." She turned the wheel.

The tires came to a crunching halt in the gravel. As soon as she put the SUV in park, Jane jumped out and ran around the front of the car to Lisbon's door. He opened it slowly, letting her look away. He moved his head toward her and caught her eyes with his. They were duller and glistening with pain. He tightened his jaw at the sight of her. "Vulnerable" and "ashamed" were not ways he would describe her. He reached into the cab and took her by the arm, pulling ever-so gently.

"You need some fresh air."

Lisbon didn't fight back. She knew she got herself into this, and that Jane was going to analyze her words and make her even angrier. But there was no stopping him now; she let her guard down for a second, and now she didn't feel like making a fuss.

He continued to pull on her arm until she was out of the seat and standing on the gravel. He kept pulling on her arm to lead her to an open field. The cheery grass was un-mowed and sprinkled with wildflowers of soft yellow and lavender. Jane noticed there were several birds happily communicating with each other from the towering eucalyptus trees that lined the broken-down fence around the field.

_"Perfect."_ he thought.

When he had lead her to the middle of the small field, he stood facing her, taking his hands and lightly gripping her shoulders. She had crossed her arms in front of her, holding her elbows, trying to block him out.

"Lisbon," he stopped. He needed to make it more personal.

"Teresa." He decided that sounded better. He looked at her bangs that covered her eyes. She had not made eye-contact the entire walk.

"Teresa," he leaned his face closer to her's. "I don't..." he paused, a nearly foreign feeling of sympathy sweeping over him. He was suddenly uneasy.

"My guilt hasn't gone away." His own emotions were reaching up from his depths and taking him by the throat. He realized that his own eyes were beginning to burn with tears, and turned his eyes down. He let go of her shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets, unable to go on. He had meant to be the comforter; he hadn't prepared to be the one who needed comfort.

Lisbon felt him retreat into his thoughts. She took in a breath of understanding, realizing his own memories made him silent.

"Patrick..." she whispered as she stepped on her tip-toes and put her arms around his neck. He sniffled and returned the favor by wrapping his arms around her. She held the back of his head with one hand, entangling her fingers in his curls, burying her face his shoulder.

"Patrick," she whispered into his ear, "what are we gonna do?" She ineffectively fought back several sobs. He held her tighter as he contained his tears, shutting his eyes. He took a deep, cleansing breath.

"Teresa," he said as he breathed out. "We're just going to get through this."

He moved his face so he could press his lips to her cheek. He moved again to find her ear so he could whisper into it. "We'll be alright; everything will be okay."

Though she wanted to believe him, she tensed up at his words. Jane felt her body go slightly rigid.

He whispered into her cheek, eyes still closed, "please, trust me."

She responded by relaxing into his embrace and moving her head under his chin. She pulled her arms down, moving her hands to her face, and snuggled them between her body and his, resting her cheek on his chest. He placed his lips in her hair and moved his hand to hold her head against him.

"Teresa, I'm here for you." He felt a few more of her tears through his shirt, and then she breathed a shallow sigh. He moved his arms around her shoulders: an effort to be the protector he wanted to be for her. Her body relaxed and she let herself be lost in his arms, his scent blending with the earthy scent of the field as the breeze swirled around them, moving their hair and the grass in the afternoon sun.


	4. Chapter 4

Lisbon turned the steering wheel into the Adkins' driveway.

"Jane, we're here," she whispered. The emotional ride he had taken among the knee-high grass and wildflowers had exhausted him, and he had been trying not to doze-off since they got back into the car. He finally let the soothing rumble of the engine lull him to sleep, the fatigue from running down memory lane taking his consciousness. His right arm was folded on the window sill, his hand protecting his head from the uncomfortable glass as the SUV rode over pot holes and avoided stray cats. As Lisbon pulled into an open space between two aged oak trees, she looked his way. Though he was fast asleep, the more pronounced worry-wrinkles on his forehead wouldn't let him look peaceful. She shut off the engine and he stirred. Moving and breathing in deeply, he sat up and turned to her. He gave her a half-hearted smile and looked at her eyes.

"You're mascara..."

She smirked at him and pointed to his chest. "Is all over your shirt..."

She pulled down her visor mirror and tried, with spit on her pinky, to wipe away the evidence of her loss of control. She always hated the clean-up after her emotions grabbed her and squeezed the tears out of her. At least her eyes weren't puffy anymore. She looked back to Jane and realized he had been watching her intently the entire time.

"Aren't you going to try and fix your shirt?"

He looked down at the streaky mess. "I can't do anything right now." He looked up, "I need soap and water." He shrugged.

"Right." She nodded her head once in agreement.

"Let's go find Sarah," he said as he opened his door.

"I'm sorry, but do really think Sarah did it?" She reached for her door handle and pulled it.

"Let's talk to her, and then you'll see." He nearly leaped out of the cab and landed on the soft dirt with a thud.

Lisbon sighed and opened her door, sliding out onto the dirt. She turned around to face the house, and as she began walking toward it, Jane joined her. He leaned over to her and put his hand on her far shoulder, pulling her to his side for a split-second, then losening his grip and resting his hand between her shoulder blades for a few more seconds. She welcomed his fleeting warmth.

Lisbon knocked on the door. She hardly had time to notice the fading red paint before a deafening string of barking and snarling met her ears. They both jumped back. Something big was waiting behind the door letting his owners known there were strangers lurking about.

Inside the house they could hear a sweet woman's voice scold "Rocko," and the angry snarls immediantly ended. A door closed.

_"Locking that thing up, I hope."_ Lisbon thought to herself. The inside locks on the front door were being fiddle with, and soon the door was open, revealing Sarah Adkins. She let out a frustrated sigh at the sight of Jane and Lisbon's familiar faces.

Jane quickly looked her up and down, noting her collar-bone-length blond hair, petite form, pretty face, and even her sense of style: skinny jeans and a dark-teal dressy tunic with flowing sleeves. He caught a glance of a silver bracelete with a charm in the shape of a heart. Her nails were beautifully manicured; most of them, anyway.

"What do you want now?" she purposefully blurted out.

Lisbon took a small step toward her. "We would like to ask you a few more questions about your alibi at the time the murder of Meyers took place."

"Why?" Sarah glanced at Jane, sensing his watch. "I already told you. I was in San Fran."

"Yes, we know." Jane said, a tinge of impatience in his voice. "May we come in?".

"Uh, yeah, I guess so." Sarah moved out of the doorway and let the agents in. "My mom's out of town right now."

Jane looked at her. "That's fine, we want to talk to you, miss Adkins," he looked down to his shirt. "Could you direct me to your bathroom? I spilled ink on my shirt in the car..."

"Yeah, it's through that door." She pointed to a dark green door with a brass knob.

Lisbon stayed in the livingroom, slowly wandering to each photograph and painting.

"Thank you," Jane said as he pulled on the doorknob, leaving the door wide open. He frowned as he looked at his face and shirt in the mirror. The small countertop was littler with the usual tioletries: toothbrush, toothpaste, a pump bottle with handsoap, a small tube of fancy lotion, and a bottle of red nail polish. Sarah watched him as he pulled off his jacket and draped it over an empty towel rack. He looked at her to start a little small talk. "What was all that noise when we knocked?" he reached for the top button of his dress shirt. "He's locked up tightly, right?"

She looked to her left toward a backroom, the hallway engulfed in darkness. "Yeah, that was Rocko, our dog... he doesn't take kindly to strangers. And yeah, he's locked up."

Jane finished unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a heather-gray wife-beater tank top and strong shoulders and arms. "So how do you like living out here in the sticks?"

Sarah tried to act cool as the half-undressed man quized her from her bathroom. "It's all right, I guess... It's quiet."

He pumped some soap into his hand. "How are your neighbors?" He rubbed it into his shirt, adding a little water. The mascara didn't budge. He bent lower to run it under the faucet.

She watched his hands as he skillfully worked at the "ink" stains on the shirt. "Eh, I don't really see them all that much... mostly at church and around fair time, or during the Rodeo and stuff."

He worked more soap into the fabric. "You like the rodeo?"

She leaned her back against the hallway wall and continued to watch his hands. "Yeah, sure. It's a lot of work and all, but it's totally worth it."

He looked up at her as he rinsed the shirt. "What part is a lot of work?"

"Well, raising my bull for one..."

"I imagine that's pretty costly?"

She rolled her eyes as she thought of the work. "You have no idea. Since we don't own a property suited for him, we have to keep him couped-up in lodgings where he's..." she stopped, and her face began to reveal frustration. "Well, where he's supposed be safer."

He continued to look at her, feeling her defenses come down. "What do mean by 'supposed to be,' Sarah?" He conitniued to rinse his shirt.

She looked back down the hall as discomfort took her. "Uh, yeah... I mean, Greg Meyers was a nice guy and all, but he just couldn't take care of my animals."

Lisbon wandered to the bathroom when she heard Sarah mention Meyers.

"Hm," Jane nodded, "must be frustrating..." He held up his shirt and studied the area that had been covered in Lisbon's mascara. Satisfied with the results, he looked at Sarah. "Do you own a hair dryer?"

She wrinkled her foredead in confusion. "Uh, yeah..." she realized he wanted to dry his shirt. "Oh, you're shirt. Bottom drawer." She leaned down and pointed at it.

"Ah, thank you." He pulled it out, unwound the cord, and plugged it into the socket over the counter. He held his shirt with one hand and the dryer with the other, flipping the switch and pointing it at the freshly washed area.

Lisbon walked to the door and stole a quick glance at Jane's bare arms and shoulders. She closed the door, attempting to silence the flurry of hot air and remove Jane from her view, blocking out those strong arms that held an uncanny, tender warmth. She leaned her back against the door, crossed her arms and looked at Sarah. "So back to your alibi... you say you were in San Fransisco? What store did you say you were at around 4:00?"

"Um," she thought to herself, "it was Von's Drugs, with my sister..."

Lisbon looked unconvinced. Sarah filled in a little more information when she noticed the doubt on the agent's face. "We went on an Ice cream run."

"I see." Her opinion of Jane's theory was beginning to change. "Do you remember the name of the cashier?" The defening noise of the blower stopped from behind the bathroom door.

"No, I didn't catch that..." Sarah looked around the hallway thoughfully, calmly recalling other facts about the boy. "But he was kind of nerdy, couldn't have been out of highschool yet... tall and thin..." she smiled, "and he kept staring at us. I mean, of course he would, we had just spent forever getting ready to go out, you know, because we could... had done eachother's hair... picked out our cutest outfits... and had gotten our nails done and all... so we were pretty dressed up for a trip to the drug store." She let a few nervous chuckles leave her throat.

The knob on the bathroom door turned and Lisbon quickly moved out of the way, taking her place next to Sarah as they watched the door open. Jane was looking down at his hands working to re-button his shirt, revealing his collarbone as his fingers pushed the buttons through their holes. He looked up as he did the last one and strightened out the still-slightly-damp front.

He looked at Sarah's hands. "You say you just got your nails done?"


	5. Chapter 5

"What happened to them?" Jane asked as he stepped out of the bathroom and took her right hand. "There are a couple of broken ones." His tone of voice had changed.

"Um..." Sarah watched as he rubbed his thumb over her pointer and ring fingers. "The dog." She looked down the hall. "I was trying to get Rocko into his room the other day, and he wouldn't budge..."

Lisbon watched him closely. Even though he seemed like he knew what he was doing, she wasn't going to let him pull another stunt like he did with Beth. She gently rubbed her arms where Jane had grabbed it when they had fallen off Beth's porch.

Jane looked into Sarah's face. "Why did you kill Greg?"

"What?" Sarah pulled her hand from his and lowered her voice in frustration. "I just told you guys I have an alibi. What makes you think I could have killed him?"

Jane let an arrogant smirk grace his mouth. "I don't _think_ you killed him, I _know_ you killed him."

"Jane." Lisbon tried not to outright scold him. She was not happy with the way the conversation was going, and she knew they didn't have any phisical evidence from the crime scene.

Sarah let out a quick sigh bleeding with resentment at his statement. She folded her arms and shook her head. "How do you _know_ this? You don't have any proof." She turned and stormed into the livingroom.

"Ah, but we do." Jane grabbed his jacket off the towel rack and followed her, Lisbon close behind.

She walked to the front door and swung it open. "Is that so?"

"Jane..." Lisbon wanted to make him stop, but knew he was testing a theory that might lead to Sarah's arrest.

Jane stepped up to her. "Yes, Miss Adkins. It is so."

"You can't prove I was there." She clenched her jaw and kept her arms tightly crossed, moving out of the doorway to give the agents obvious clearance to leave.

Jane shook his head to singnal that he wasn't on his way out just yet. "So you're willing to let Mrs. Quinn, practically your mother, go to jail in innocence?"

Sarah's jaw and arms loosened a bit. "But... she confessed."

"So you're saying she's a heartless murderer?"

"Jane!" Lisbon grabbed his arm, pulling him down to scold him. "Don't do this again."

Sarah reacted to his words. "What? No!"

He brushed off Lisbon's warning. "So you're going to confess?"

Sarah's defenses began to peak. "No! I didn't do it!"

"We found trace evidence..." He watched her closely and studied her reaction.

Her expression changed from indignation to tension.

She lowered her voice a notch. "What did you find?"

"Evidence." He pointed to her hand. "Greg's face had been scratched by human nails right before he fell into the tractor equipment. We found a piece of a fingernail, painted the same ruby red as yours near his body."

She looked down at her nails, swallowing hard as Jane laid out the facts. "That... that could be any body's."

"But _yours_ are missing. Tammy's are intact, and _not_ painted at all."

"So..." she found herself running out of options and excuses, "you have the wrong person..."

Jane smirked and shook his head. "We also know that it was _Beth_ in San Francisco that day, not you. You could have been here."

"But, she was in class!" The last part of her alibi was unraveling, and she seemed to be mentally running after the threads.

Janes pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his jacket. It was the roll sheet from Beth's Psychology class. He handed the paper to Sarah and pointed to the names as he spoke them. "Teachers make mistakes; turns out there's a "Beth Annequin" in Bethany's class. Mrs. Kintu called Beth's name, but Miss "Annequin" responded and was marked down as "Bethany Quinn. Annequin noticed the difference. Your Beth was never there."

Sarah was speachless as she stared at the paper. Lisbon looked up in disbelief at Jane; she should have guess Jane was withholding crucial information. For all his tenderness and sensitivity, there was an unavoidably narcissistic side to him.

"I..." Sarah's face twisted in hysteria as she realized the weight of this information. She looked outside to avoid eye-contact with Jane. Her alibi was floating away into the sun that poured through the doorway, and she could find no way of catching it before it burst into flames. She looked down at her hands and stared at the broken nails.

"Uh..." her mind was running at full-speed, trying to catch another explanation for her whereabouts that day. Nothing was in sight.

"Sarah?" Jane said softly. He moved closer and touched her shoulder.

She continued to stare at the paper. She opened her mouth and whisperred, "it was an accident..."

The agents watched her, with no way around the facts, surrender the truth.

"I didn't mean to..." she staggerd backward and slumped onto the couch, shaking her head. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that..." she put her face in her hands as she fought tears of remorse.

***


	6. Chapter 6

Lisbon was back at her desk, looking over new paperwork related to the Meyers' case. She wrote in the name "Partick Jane" and stopped. She stared at the document, unable to focus. She looked up and gazed across her office, her eyes focusing on the space between her desk and the opposite wall. She let her mind wander. _Patrick Jane..._ the name alone pulled her insides so many different ways all at once, she didn't know what to feel. In one day he had managed to make her enjoy a drive in the countryside, frustrate her with his singing, genuinely frighten her with a fake death, and even tear away her armor and let her find the grief she so badly needed to let out. She witnessed him be cheeky, cold, narcissistic, sensitive, matter-of-fact, speechless and ashamed. There seemed to be no end of surprises with that man, whether welcome or not. She had tried so many times to weigh his good and bad, and, even though bad largely outweighed the good, she couldn't bring herself to hate him. Sometimes Lisbon didn't know how to feel around him. She loathed him for his arrogance, but at the same time loved him for his friendship.

Her door squeaked as it was gently pushed open. Jane popped his head in and smiled at her. She looked up, a strange expression and slight frown on her face.

Jane's smile dissapeared as he stood in her doorway. "Teresa? I want to apologize for today..."

She dropped her pen and papers, sprang from her seat and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck in a friendly hug. Jane let her hang on him, not quite sure how to react to her sudden friendliness. She pulled away and looked into his face, smiling.

"I'm so glad I know you." She moved back in and put her chin on his shoulder. This time he hugged back and smiled, leaning his cheek on her head.

"I really am sorry," he started. "I know how you hate it when I don't tell you everything. I know I withheld information, but I wanted to be sure I was the one to talk to Sarah..."

"It's all right, everything worked out..."

"And I'm sorry for... for making you..." he lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "For getting you to breakdown like that. I know you hate--"

She wouldn't let him go on. "You don't need to apologize for that. You were helping me... You know I needed it."

"You're right: you do." He relaxed a bit more as relief swept over him.

Lisbon squeezed him tighter, remembering his heartfelt words in the field. "I probably need a lot more of it. I need a lot of help, now, Jane. That's why I'm so thankful that you're in my life... as angry as you make me sometimes, I'm still glad you're here."

"You know I'll always be here for you. Anytime you need some help. You can trust me."

"I know. Thank you." She released his neck and pulled herself away from his warmth. "But..." she turned and walked to her desk. "I can't exaclty thank you for all this paperwork your antics are giving me..."

Jane watched her as she sat down in her chair and gathered up all the documents she would have to finish before the end of the day. She held up a seven-page form. "This one is for when we went to Beth's house. She called the CBI and filed a complaint about you invading her house... emotional distress..."

She picked up another form. "This one is for the evidence you found and withheld; the roll sheet from the Psych class. Not a fun one to turn in, mind you..." she set those down and fished around for another one.

"And this one..." she held up a third form and smiled, "is to release Tammy Quinn, to drop the charges." Jane smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets, shifting into a triumphal stance.

Lisbon saw his posture change. "Thank you for your hardwork."

"My pleasure."

"You can go home now, get some rest... and finish doctoring your shirt." She went back to filling out those forms.

Jane smiled and saw a few faded mascara stains still marred his light-blue shirt. "Gladly." He walked toward her desk. "Goodnight, Lisbon." He leaned down and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. He turned away before she could look up, and bounded out her door.

She touched her forehead and smiled as she watched him through her window, waving at his co-workers as they all packed up for the evening. Sighing and shaking her head, she went back to her paperwork.


End file.
